


One of a Kind

by dogpoet



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Horta, M/M, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three planets. All things rare and beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [One of a Kind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074489) by [curlybear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlybear/pseuds/curlybear), [dogpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet)



> Part One is based on the TOS ep "Devil in the Dark," but I have made minor changes due to the fact that this takes place in the new timeline.

**Part One: Janus VI**

Spock does not experience emotional reactions to the planets the crew visits during away missions. For instance, he observes with impartiality the barren landscape of Janus VI, a landscape upon which little grows besides hardy varieties of wheat and other winter grains. Everything else – food, water, supplies – must be imported. The planet is rich in resources essential to space travel, primarily pergium. Thus, a mining operation has been established, and a small population inhabits the planet.

"Hell of a place to live," Kirk comments upon first looking out onto the planet's surface from the window of the mining company's above-ground offices.

"The atmosphere is tolerable to Human respiratory systems," Spock says in reply.

The Captain nods. "But there are no women on this planet. There's nothing to do."

It makes sense that the Captain would consider women essential to existence given that he seems to require their company more than most Human males. Spock can comment no further on the subject, however, as they have arrived at the office of the foreman. Their escort leads them in.

The foreman, a Mr. Vandenburg, has called for assistance with an alarming matter: his employees are being killed off, one by one, by a large and violent creature below ground. Spock listens gravely as the details of the situation are explained to him.

A curious purple sphere on Mr. Vandenburg's desk catches Spock's attention. He reaches out to touch the object, and is immediately aware of a presence – not a consciousness exactly, but something similar. "What is this?" he asks, looking up at the foreman.

"Silicon nodule," Mr. Vandenburg says dismissively. "There are tons of them down there." He is a man who does not possess scientific curiosity.

Kirk, on the other hand, fixes Spock with an intent expression Spock cannot quite read. After two years serving together, Spock has formed what Humans call a friendship with his Captain, but the man remains a mystery.

"What are you thinking, Spock?" Kirk asks.

Spock shakes his head. "I am not certain." He keeps his hand on the sphere for a moment longer.

~ * ~

As they descend hundreds of feet into the depths of the mining tunnels, Spock is forced to admit that the environment is less than ideal. He was raised on a hot planet with abundant sunshine. On occasion, the deep darkness of space affects him, and he longs illogically for Vulcan's sun. Now, no matter how he longs for it, he can never have it. He is an endangered species, and his planet is gone. The fact makes him more sensitive than he would have been three years ago to the plight of the creature whose silicon-based life signs he picks up with his tricorder as he and Kirk stand in a rough tunnel twenty-three levels below the surface of the planet.

"I hypothesize that it is the only one left of its kind, Captain," Spock says in his most certain tone. "To kill it would be a crime against science." It is not the first time the away team has encountered a species on the brink of extinction. Life, as Spock is well aware, is fragile.

Kirk regards Spock for a moment, his eyes soft. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. "I know, but my job is to protect these men."

The only one of its kind. Spock stares at the ground. He does not even know what the creature looks like. He knows nothing of its habits beyond the fact that it is killing miners. More than anything, he wishes to see it, to study it. The thought of its disappearance from the planet is more than he can bear. He should not harbor emotions for what is, after all, only a specimen, but he cannot deny that he understands the creature's actions, particularly if his nascent thoughts about the purple sphere are accurate.

"I'm sorry," Kirk adds, squeezing Spock's arm.

The Captain often touches him, something Spock has accepted from no one besides Nyota. With her, the intimacy caused him discomfort, but when Kirk touches his hand lightly, or bumps him with an elbow, the gestures are not unwelcome. In this case, Kirk means to offer comfort. Spock meets Kirk's eyes, then looks away. He is ashamed of his emotional thoughts regarding the creature, and the fact that Kirk can read them so easily.

They walk on through the dim tunnel until they come to a divergence.

"Two tunnels. Two of us," Kirk says, looking at Spock for confirmation.

"I do not think it wise for us to separate." However fascinating the silicon-based creature might be, it is deadly, and Spock does not wish to leave Kirk unguarded. The Captain has a penchant for getting himself into dangerous situations. Spock has saved Kirk's life four times since the start of the mission, and finds himself increasingly unsettled each time. Kirk is an effective Captain, appreciated by his crew. Spock acknowledges that he provides an inadequate substitute during the periods when the Captain is incapacitated.

Kirk grins. "You don't think I can handle myself?" Without waiting for an answer, he enters the tunnel on the right.

Spock watches Kirk disappear around a bend before heading into the tunnel on the left.

"Spock," comes the Captain's voice over the communicator a few minutes later. "I found it."

Spock's heart speeds its pace in his side. "You must kill it, Captain, before it kills you." There may be only one of these silicon-based life forms on the planet, but there is also only one Captain Kirk. As a Vulcan and a Science Officer, Spock should not make value judgments, but there is no question in his mind whom he would save should he have to choose between them.

"Ow!" Kirk cries, and there is the sound of rock collapsing.

Spock runs, his mind deluged with images of Kirk pinned beneath boulders, unable to move, or, worse, killed by the very creature they are pursuing. A sudden tightness constricts his lungs.

"I'm okay. It's okay."

"Kill it!" Spock shouts into the communicator, almost tripping in his haste.

"It's not doing anything. I think it's that Kirk charm." Spock can see in his mind's eye the smile accompanying this statement.

Finally, Spock reaches the chamber in which the Captain and the creature assess one another warily. The animal appears to be injured, a pale, wet wound marking its tortoise-like shell.

"Don't shoot it." Kirk says softly. "I already hit it by accident when the rock collapsed. I think it's afraid."

"It may attack. I believe we should act preemptively." Spock inches toward Kirk, trying not to startle the multi-colored animal hugging the ground. It is not until they are touching – elbow to elbow – that he is assured of his Captain's well-being.

"I thought it would be 'a crime against science' to kill it."

"You are more valuable than the creature, Captain."

Kirk's expression is inscrutable. After a moment, they return their attention to the creature, who has not moved.

"This is the first silicon-based life form I have ever seen," Spock whispers.

Kirk smiles at him. "What do you think of all those purple balls over there?"

There are piles of them toward the rear of the chamber, all identical to the specimen in the foreman's office.

"I have a theory," Spock says.

"Maybe we have the same theory."

Spock raises an eyebrow. He and the Captain rarely agree on anything, much less scientific theories, though Kirk has a way of surprising him. When their hands brush together, Spock can sense a sharp sadness.

"Sometimes a parent will do anything to save its children, don't you think?" Kirk looks at Spock steadily.

The Captain does not often seem affected by his past, but perhaps it is only that Kirk does not show the emotions when they take hold of him. He has let down his guard, which he seldom does. In this, he and Spock are alike.

"I know you don't like to do it, but if you could meld with it, we might be able to find out what's going on."

"That is not quite the case. It is rather that I do not like to extract information against someone's will. A meld can, in fact, be quite pleasant."

Spock has never melded with Kirk, and cannot explain his impulse to do so. Circumstances do not require it. He banishes the thought from his mind as he tentatively approaches the animal, trying to project his intention to help. He kneels beside it, placing his hands with the lightest pressure, awed by his proximity to such an unusual life form. It is at times like this that he feels he decided correctly when he chose Starfleet over the Vulcan Science Academy.

The consciousness beneath the rough shell is quite intelligent, the thoughts clear and easy to pick out. He gets a sense of the creature's existence moving blindly through the rock and the tunnels, navigating or locating objects by sonar. He senses love for the place, for the rocks that provide subsistence. What to Humans is a gray, inhospitable planet is comfort and home for the creature. Its dominant emotion is pain – physical pain due to its injury, but also emotional pain – concern for its unborn children and fear for its home. The creature's distress is so great, it literally hurls Spock away.

Spock lands on Kirk, whose arms wrap around him protectively. "It is called a horta," Spock says, "and you are correct in supposing that those are its eggs." They look at one another, and in his open state, Spock is flooded with Kirk's emotions – anxiety, solicitude, and something else Spock dares not put a word to. He pulls away, unaccustomed to the extended contact.

Kirk lets go of Spock reluctantly, running his hands along Spock's arms. "Are you okay?"

"Indeed. But the horta is not."

Kirk nods, thinking. "Spock," he says, "let's get Dr. McCoy down here. Our friend the horta needs some medical attention."

"You propose to rehabilitate the creature?" Spock asks. Kirk's compassion, logical or not, is what sets him apart from others. It is a quality Spock is growing to appreciate.

"I have a plan to save this horta and all her babies." Kirk smiles at Spock and opens his communicator. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

 

*

 

**Part Two: Haven**

There's not much plant life left to preserve. It's Sulu's first thought as he and Spock beam down with their specimen collection kits and their tricorders. The planet is named Haven because it was designated a refuge for persecuted races and religious sects who fled other planets. It's purely ironic because what were once lush, thriving ecosystems have been reduced to rubble and ashes and charred debris by a planet-wide war with almost no survivors. One of the few remaining scientists called on the crew of the _Enterprise_ in hopes of obtaining assistance with preserving the planet's flora. Sulu and Spock have the strongest botany backgrounds of any of the crew, and they alone have been spared for the task.

Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy, along with a number of other crew members, have beamed to the largest city to provide recovery assistance, disaster relief, and medical care. The rest of the Science Department are responsible for air and water quality tests – it is possible that the planet will have to be abandoned, though the remaining citizens are reluctant to leave their homes in spite of the potential health risks.

"Commander," Sulu says, "I'm getting some life signs. Maybe one kilometer from here."

A short distance away, Spock takes his own readings, covering the area behind Sulu. "I, too, register some signs. Dr. Mbrz mentioned that small pockets were spared during the fires."

Spock comes up beside Sulu, and they walk together, following the signal given by the tricorder.

"I've read about something similar," Sulu begins. "In Hawaii. Have you ever been there?"

Spock glances Sulu's way. "I have not. My experience travelling on Earth is limited."

"When the volcanos erupt, the lava covers pretty much everything, but sometimes it goes around a patch of trees, and then there's this island of vegetation. It's called a kipuka."

"Fascinating," Spock responds, and he's not being sarcastic at all. "Perhaps we will discover a similar phenomenon here."

Light flakes of ash rise around their feet, covering their uniforms with a dusting of soot. It's a shame. Sulu knows he shouldn't get emotional about a bunch of plants, but he does. He's seen photographs of Earth plants, individuals that are the last of their kind, protected behind fences in Africa and Hawaii, and it's more common than most people know. He's seen scientists hanging off of cliffs to pollinate plants whose numbers are so few, they can't survive without help. He's seen pictures of Haven before the war – its lush, lowland forests of multi-colored trees and rocky mountains containing delicate flowers. It isn't just the loss of Humans and other races that he mourns.

"I've read that plants show some level of sentience," Sulu says, hoping to start a conversation with Spock, who isn't prone to starting them. "They show reactions to leaves being cut, or branches being removed, and they register when a nearby organism experiences pain."

As usual, Spock has knowledge of the subject. "Studies have shown advanced reactions in plants, including a rudimentary ability to sense predators, and to communicate such information to nearby individuals. They may also alter their chemistry when insect eggs are laid on their leaves. They are not unlike animals and other sentient beings in these respects."

"But are they capable of emotion?" Sulu argues. "Like love." That earns Sulu a raised eyebrow. He smiles. Then laughs out loud. "I guess it sounds crazy," he adds. "Plant love."

"They would not be the only organisms supposed to lack emotion simply because they do not display it. We may be incorrect in assuming they do not experience love, as you put it."

Sulu stops suddenly, struck by an idea. "Have you ever tried to meld with a plant?"

"Never," Spock replies, looking off into the distance.

Following Spock's gaze, Sulu can see the hazy shape of something through the particulates filling the air. They both walk faster. As they proceed, the small island of life becomes clearer. The colors of the trees have been muted by dust, but Sulu can see what must have once been brilliant orange and purple leaves. Some of the branches are burnt and black, but others appear to be healthy. Elongated seed pods hang from the twigs, good material for their collection.

Inside the grove, Sulu crouches to examine the ground. A coating of ash covers everything, but he uses a brush to expose a few low-growing plants. Many of them appear dead. At the tip of one twig hangs a perfect, red leaf, which shimmers as Sulu dusts it with a small brush, grateful that he is able to see this much. Another week, and this could all be gone.

Spock bends to have a closer look at the shimmering leaf. "If it contains meristem tissue, we will be able to clone it."

"Don't you wish they could talk? They could tell us what they saw." For a moment, Sulu feels foolish for suggesting it, but Spock doesn't mock him.

"Indeed, we could learn much from plant life. If these trees survive, their growth rings may indicate the occurrence of disaster." He stands and lays a hand on one of the trees, closing his eyes.

Sulu watches, holding his breath, aware that he should remain silent. A full minute later, the Commander opens his eyes.

"Well?" Sulu asks, trying not to show his excitement.

Spock shakes his head. "The tree does not appear to be sentient in the way that animals or people are, though I would not discount the possibility that I simply do not possess the means of understanding how it communicates. I did, however, sense emotion."

Sulu stares up at the treetop with its sad, dust-laden leaves, its broken branches, the grimy sky above. Bringing his thoughts back to the surface, he clips the stem of the plant with the shimmering leaf, wondering if it's the last of its kind. He places the twig in a collection jar.

~ * ~

Later, he and Spock join the rest of the crew in Eden, the largest city on Haven. Again, Sulu thinks of the irony. The buildings are for the most part rubble. Graffiti marks many of them. Huge craters pock the street, evidence of phaser-fire and bombs. Most of the confusion has become order, however, and the varied citizens of the planet seem calm and filled with determination to restore their home. The scene reminds Sulu a little of his own home, San Francisco, with its diversity of races. He hopes the remaining people will learn to live peacefully. He has to believe it's possible.

The Captain wears a sober expression, nodding as he listens to the new president of the planet, who only became so because the three leaders above her in rank were assassinated. The two of them grasp one another's shoulders in the accepted gesture of friendship on Haven. Then Kirk strides toward Sulu and Spock. Spock leaves Sulu's side, meeting the Captain halfway. They speak quietly to one another, heads bowed close, almost intimate. Sulu strains to hear, though he knows he shouldn't.

"It is difficult for you, Captain," Spock observes. "I grieve with thee."

Kirk's face relaxes, and he tilts his head, gazing at Spock. "And I with thee," he replies, touching Spock's elbow for an instant. "I'm okay. It's... They've buried most of the dead."

Spock nods once. "I believe it best that we beam up in order to preserve the specimens right away."

There's no time to wonder at the exchange. Spock is already at Sulu's side, opening his communicator.

"Spock to _Enterprise_," he says, and their bodies, clinging to specimens, dematerialize.

~ * ~

Most of the laboratories and other science facilities on Haven have been destroyed. They were considered prime targets during the war. In order to revegetate the planet, specimens must be propagated in the _Enterprise_'s laboratories, or in roughshod greenhouses quickly set up on Haven's surface. It is thus that Sulu finds his duties divided between the bridge and working with Spock.

The lab is quiet but for the hum of the fans and the occasional clink of test tubes. Plant cloning is a process requiring meticulous sterilization of instruments and even Sulu's hands, which he douses in alcohol before inserting them into the opening in the work station. Under the hood, he places small bits of leaf into synthetic gel in test tubes, hoping the cells will reproduce, and a small plant will grow.

The red, shimmering leaf was the only one of its kind that Sulu and Spock found in any health at all. The species is named _Eleandra rosa_, common name Heart of Fire, so called because its leaves shiver in the slightest wind and catch the sunlight, dispersing rays in the surrounding air. Sulu has stared at the animated pictures on his PADD, wondering if the tiny bits of leaf he's working with will ever achieve such glory.

After a few months, Sulu has tiny plants. Actual plants, not just bits of leaf. If he were them, he wouldn't want to be stuck in test tubes in a sterile lab. So, one day, he experiments, taking a few individuals from their tubes and placing them in growth medium in petri dishes. One, he places on a shelf in the lab. He puts a second on the window seat on the observation deck with a small note explaining its presence. He keeps the third with him at all times, taking it to the bridge, to the mess, and to his room each night. He's curious to see which plant will grow faster.

Chekov makes fun of him, as do some others on the crew, but most people stop him in the corridors to check in with the plant, as if it's a little baby. He doesn't tell anyone that he calls it Rosa. That might put him over the crazy line, but he's fond of the plant, cheered by its little leaves, and hopeful for its future. It seems only fitting to give it a name.

Sulu's hypothesis proves correct when Rosa attains one millimeter more leaf length in two weeks than her counterparts in the lab or on the observation deck. After a month, the difference is even more pronounced. Despite his worries about contamination, mold, and other hazards, Rosa seems healthy, and her growth medium is clean. She knows she's loved, and that's all there is to it.

Sulu returns to the lab one day to transplant more of the seedlings as an expansion of his experiment. He works through the morning, uninterrupted. When Spock leaves to meet the Captain for lunch, the place feels empty, but Sulu continues to work – Chekov should have come to get him by now, but maybe he was roped into helping Scotty with something.

Sulu is startled when the door opens a while later. Uhura is the last person he expects.

Of late, Sulu has developed a little thing for Uhura, who's never before given him a glance. She probably only knows him as the quiet helmsman, who fucked up on his first day. She looks like she could beat the crap out of anyone who tried to mess with her, and Sulu is oddly drawn to that. He wants to fence with her, which he admits is kind of a weird date fantasy.

"Hey," Uhura says.

"Hey." Sulu doesn't know what else to say.

Uhura and Spock have been broken up for a couple of years, now, and even Chekov, the eternal gossip, has no leads on Uhura's dating life. "Just ask her," he's always saying. And Sulu always answers, "You think it's that easy, you ask her!"

And here she is, arms crossed over her chest, staring at the tubes and seedlings under the hood.

"Do you need something?" Sulu asks.

Uhura shrugs. "Chekov said he had to miss lunch. He's stuck in a jefferies tube."

"Literally stuck? Or did Scotty commandeer him?"

Uhura laughs, and her ponytail swings. "He told me you should eat. The kid worries."

"Yeah," Sulu agrees.

There's an awkward silence.

"So... How's your plant?"

"She's good. Have a look." Sulu nods toward the counter, where he has directed a heat lamp to shine on Rosa.

"She?" Uhura leans her elbows on the counter, moving her face close to the dish.

"Uhhh..."

Uhura grins at him.

"The latin name is _Eleandra rosa_. Doesn't it sound like a girl to you?"

"I guess so." She touches a fingertip to one of the leaves, stroking gently.

For an instant, Sulu worries about germs, but Rosa seems to thrive on proximity to other beings. Maybe physical contact will have a positive effect.

"It's good you're around. I bet she appreciates it." Uhura straightens up. "Well, I'm going to the mess if you wanna come."

"Yeah. Okay," Sulu agrees, feeling his face turn hot. He's sure she can see it. "Um. It's going to be a few minutes. I have to finish this batch."

"I'll save you a seat."

At that moment, the door opens again, and Spock and Kirk return from lunch. Spock nods to Uhura.

"Commander," she says, calm as can be.

"Lieutenant." And that's it. Spock turns to Kirk.

"I'll see you later," Kirk says.

"I will be ready for a break at 2100 hours." Spock extends his hand, and his fingers brush Kirk's for the briefest instant. The kind of instant you might not catch, and might not believe was anything because it seems so unintentional.

Uhura's eyes meet Sulu's, and they share a small smile, acknowledging what they've seen. Then she turns and walks out the door.

 

*

 

**Part Three: New Vulcan**

Jim can't even imagine. What if Earth had been destroyed, and someone found a new Earth somewhere, with a new Iowa? Maybe that's how it was for the American colonists, naming everything after their old home in hopes that the new place might feel more like it. He doesn't think New Vulcan can ever replace the real Vulcan. Not for Spock.

He watches his friend carefully as they materialize on the planet. Spock moves more stiffly than normal, and that's the only indication he gives of any emotion or discomfort. Jim knows he's holding everything in, trying to wrap something tight around himself. This is their first visit to the Vulcan colony since its formation nearly five years ago.

The Ambassador greets them. "Spock. _Jim_. Welcome."

Spock Senior, as Jim calls him, looks fondly at the others, even though they don't know who he really is. Jim doesn't think he can ever get used to the fact that this Spock knew everyone in a different time. It's weird. He wonders if they ever had sex. But that's too weird, even for him, and he quiets the thought, glancing over at his Spock.

He and Spock are separated for the day. Spock heads off with Sulu and some Vulcan scientists to tour the greenhouses, where stock from the Interplanetary Seed Bank has been propagated so the Vulcans can have their Plomeek and all that. Jim is struck with the memory of Spock telling him how Amanda brought roses from Earth to cultivate on Vulcan. He doubts that anyone on New Vulcan would want plants from Earth, especially not roses.

Part of the morning is spent with the Ambassador, whom Jim thinks of as an old friend, even though they've only spent what amounts to half a day together before today. The old man smiles, as unlike the younger Spock as could be. They chat easily as they wander toward the government offices. Spock wants to hear about Jim's adventures, nodding familiarly at certain stories as if he knows their endings.

Jim likes the old man and wonders if he'll still be with his Spock when they're old. He'll die first, he knows – it's a fact of biology – but until then... He doesn't know.

The Ambassador gazes at Jim steadily. "You are thinking about the future."

"Yeah," Jim smiles. It's uncanny how this Spock knows him.

They are silent for a moment.

Then Spock says, "In my timeline, we were not together until much later in life."

Jim scans his memory, trying to recall if he accidentally touched Spock when they beamed down. Are they that obvious?

"He and I share much in common, including the ability to gauge your thoughts."

"I thought I was better at hiding them."

"From most people, yes."

Jim stares at the ground. He can't voice his question.

"Do not concern yourself. I loved my Captain until the very last."

"But you're alone now." The thought of his Spock growing old alone fills him with more anxiety than seeing this Spock, who seems at peace. Sometimes he thinks his Spock should find a Vulcan mate, someone who will live as long as he will.

Spock touches Jim's arm. "I would not alter my decision to be with him."

And Jim can see he means it.

They part later with a hug, a display that shocks Jim, but he supposes Spock is kind of a rule-breaker in both incarnations. Jim is handed off to Sarek for the afternoon. Sarek doesn't know Jim and Spock are together, and despite being an Ambassador to Earth, he's not the easiest guy to talk to. Sarek shows him the Vulcan Science Academy, the new cultural repository, the temples, and the medical facilities. They can't visit the monastery because it's too far away. Jim is secretly glad of that. All in all, the colony appears to be prospering.

At the end of the day, Jim is hot and tired. He goes to get Spock at the greenhouses, and finds him with Sulu in the outdoor gardens next to the glass structures. Spock kneels in the dirt between rows of low-growing plants. He looks up as Jim approaches.

"Captain," he acknowledges.

"Hey," Jim says, sitting right in the dirt, crossing his legs Indian-style. "What's going on?"

Spock touches the wide, long leaves of one of the plants. "These berlak plants are being introduced slowly to make sure they do not present a danger to the native species."

"They're dangerous?"

"It is possible they will become invasive if no natural controls exist."

"Oh," Jim says. Plant-speak is always kind of another language to him. Maybe Spock will explain it later. He likes when Spock lectures on things when they're going to sleep.

"I can compile our notes if you want to head back, Commander," Sulu offers, looking up from his PADD.

"That is not necessary," Spock says.

"I know, but..." Sulu looks at Jim as if asking for help.

Jim reaches out to touch Spock's arm. "Come on, Spock. I think Sulu's got it."

Spock stands slowly, looking toward the setting New Vulcan sun. There's no sister planet here, though there are two moons.

They cross the dry fields where silvery grasses grow. The sky shifts colors several times as the sun drops out of sight: gold, then red, then purple. The purple becomes deeper and darker, the two moons appearing against it. It's still incredibly hot, waves coming off the surface of the planet where they have been accumulating all day. Delicate, glowing puffballs drift through the air.

"What are those?" Jim asks.

Spock answers tonelessly. "I do not know."

It's unusual for Spock not to know something, or not to want to find out. He seems subdued and quieter than usual. A chatter of insects and other animals fills the air. Jim wonders about them, but hesitates to ask. He knows there are no sehlats here. No le-matyas. There never will be.

Jim has never seen Spock's real home. He has never met Spock's mom, a fact he regrets deeply. It's a whole part of Spock he'll never know. Back then, he didn't think he and Spock would become friends. And he sure as hell didn't think they'd be lovers. In the growing darkness, Spock's face looks pale and drawn. Their feet make whispery sounds in the grass, and then soft rubbing sounds against the dirt when they near the diplomatic compound where they'll be sleeping.

They've been assigned separate rooms, but Jim follows Spock to his.

At the door, Spock turns and says, "I would prefer if you stayed in your own quarters."

Jim hesitates. It's hard to tell if Spock is just falling back on the familiar, or if he really does need to be alone. Jim decides it's the former. "Don't give me that," he says, opening the door and entering the room. He can be a stubborn bastard when he wants to be.

He hears the door close, and turns to find Spock standing stiffly, gazing at the floor.

"Hey," he says, closing the gap between them, and touching a dusty hand to Spock's cheek. He presses his lips to Spock's, which are dry and hot.

Spock pulls away.

"Spock. Will you just –" Jim makes a noise of frustration. "Fine. I'm gonna take a shower." He pulls off first one boot, and then the other, tossing them on the floor. Spock hates that. He strips off his uniform shirt and then his undershirt, giving them the same lack of care as he discards them. His pants and boxers follow, leaving a trail, and he stomps naked into the bathroom, not looking back once to see what Spock is up to.

There's more water on New Vulcan than on old Vulcan, but the Vulcans, being who they are, have installed sonic showers to conserve water. Jim hasn't had a real water shower in forever, and he'd kill for one. It would help relieve his tension. After the sonics have removed all the dust and dirt, he washes his face at the sink, where the faucet doles out a thin stream of water.

The bathroom has a mirror, something that's not common in Vulcan homes, Jim's been told, but maybe it's a concession to the various races who will be hosted at the diplomatic compound. Jim stares at himself for a minute. He's put on more muscle in space, maybe because he drinks less and works out more. He's also gained a few scars. One long line perfectly bisects his right nipple. He fingers the raised tissue, remembering his fight with the Gorn on Cestus III. He's lucky to have made it to thirty. Or maybe he's just lucky he has Spock, who always saves his life.

He returns to the room, half expecting to find his Vulcan gone, but Spock sits on the edge of the large bed, his back straight, staring out the window. He glances toward Jim before getting up and going to the bathroom, a Vulcan robe draped over his arm.

Jim remembers when he first told Spock about Tarsus, remembers the first time Spock entered his mind, soothing the memories, which even after almost fifteen years, were as vivid as yesterday, often waking Jim in the night. Spock didn't press for information. He didn't ask Jim to talk. That was before they were lovers, but it was the moment Jim knew they would be.

He should probably put some clothes on and get ready for dinner, but he doesn't have any clean ones, and his bag is in his room. He picks up his discarded clothes and folds them to appease Spock, then he kneels in front of the window, leaning out on the sill, breathing the warm air. He can see nothing but shadowy mountains looming against the sky. He knows they're covered in pale green succulents and stalky plants with white flowers he can barely see glowing in the darkness. This planet is beautiful, even if it isn't the place Spock remembers as home. The two moons have the appearance of heading straight toward one another. The stars look different here, different from Earth, different from in space, where they're constantly changing.

"Would you like me to retrieve your clothes?" Spock asks from behind him a few minutes later.

Jim stands and faces Spock, aware of the sweat in the creases at the backs of his knees. "Do I need them?"

Spock's eyes shift down, then back up. He passes by Jim, and wordlessly closes the curtains, protecting the room from view. By that simple gesture, Jim knows they've made up.

"You lack modesty," Spock comments.

"There's no one out there." Jim falls back onto the enormous bed made to accommodate a variety of races. He spreads his limbs. "Anyway, it's hot, and I've been wearing clothes all day."

He watches Spock come toward him and stop at the edge of the bed. His dick is already filling with blood and desire. He lifts his foot and places the bare sole against Spock's robe-covered thigh. He rubs gently, enjoying the softness of the cloth and the hardness of the muscle underneath. He lets his foot stray, works it under the robe, so they're skin to skin. Foot to knee, then thigh again.

Spock just watches him.

When he steps away, it's only to release the ties holding the robe together. He shrugs out of it, uncharacteristically letting it drop to the floor. His briefs come off with just as little thought, and Jim has only a second to enjoy the view of Spock's pale skin and the flare of dark hair on his chest, the trail leading downward from his navel, before he's pinned to the bed with a hard, Vulcan cock pressing against his, their legs atangle, hands clasped. There are no words between them, only hard kisses, something desperate coming out of Spock in the gestures, in the near-painful grinding of his pelvis against Jim's. There are no tears. There are no obvious signs of Spock's emotional state except for a strange catch in his breaths that's not usually there.

Jim clings to him, holding him tighter than he ever has, presses fingertips into his back, down his spine, grabs the softer flesh of his ass and melds their bodies together. Spock is heavy, and the gravity of New Vulcan does nothing to improve Jim's advantage, but he manages to flip them and straddle Spock, trailing fingers along collarbone, following the spread of hair on Spock's chest. He touches a dark tuft peeking out from his armpit, then lets his hands drift down Spock's sides, one stopping at his heart, the other reaching for his cock, which is almost the green of bruises.

He knows Spock can feel fragments of his thoughts when they're like this, open and touching, so he thinks it as hard as he can: _I love every single part of you._ Hipbones and toes, knees and scars. The wispy hairs that lie along his inner thighs. The dark tangle at the base of his shaft. The dusty smell, now so familiar. And most of all, his mind.

He thinks it fiercely as he shifts position, spreading Spock's legs, kneeling between them to fist his cock. Jim slides his tongue along the slit, along the flare of the head, the slight knot of flesh where the foreskin connects to the shaft. Mouths downward along the underside, then back up again. The lightest scrape of teeth, and Spock is lifting his hips, hands pressed against the blanket, his breaths fast and harsh. Jim shifts again, moving to the side.

While he's still got the head of Spock's dick against his tongue, Jim puts two fingers in his mouth so Spock will know what he's doing. He slathers them with spit, then removes them. Spock spreads his legs more, and Jim's fingers go where they want to go, pressing against sensitive skin, against muscle and resistance, sliding inside. He doesn't play sweet and nice, but goes for two fingers right away, knowing Spock likes that. He sets up a rhythm, hard and forceful, matching it with his mouth. There's the softest of cries, and Spock's come explodes on his tastebuds.

Jim's dick is already pulsing, like he's seconds from bursting. He takes a breath, watching Spock come down, his dark hair fanned on the bed, his mouth slightly open.

"Where is it?" Jim asks, and scrambles for Spock's luggage.

"The small pocket."

Jim unzips the pocket, and finds the lube and condoms he's looking for. Prepared Vulcans. He loves them. Kneeling between Spock's legs, he tears the packet open carelessly. They're making a mess, he registers, as he spills lube in his hurry, but he doesn't really care. He slides fingers into Spock again, slicking him up, then sits back on his heels and scoots closer, settling Spock's spread legs over his thighs. Spock angles his hips helpfully, and then Jim is sliding home. He doesn't have as much range of movement in this position, but he wants to look at Spock's face, to watch him lose control, one hand unconsciously reaching for his balls and his soft cock. Spock meets him halfway on every stroke, using his planted heels for leverage, and it isn't long before Jim is coming, out of breath, clutching Spock's hips, sweat beading on his face and chest.

Spock places his hands over Jim's as if saying: _Don't leave_, and Jim obeys, lifting only his thumbs to skim over skin. They look at one another for a long moment before Spock turns his head to the side and lets go of Jim's hands.

Jim doesn't want to move, even though Spock's weight is heavy on his thighs. He's going to feel it in his knees later, he's sure. Spock moves first, letting his legs fall open wide, shifting his body on the bed. Jim pulls out at the same time, his muscles protesting as he stumbles to the bathroom to throw out the condom. Higher gravity, not so great for sex.

Spock seems calmer and more relaxed when he returns. Jim lies beside him and kisses him, open-mouthed, tongue tasting. Spock takes his hand, caressing his fingers and his palm.

"Are you okay?" Jim asks. Spock hates vague questions, but something is wrong and Jim hates not knowing what.

Spock's voice comes out quiet. "There has always been an expectation that I should remain here. I was acutely aware of it today."

A sound escapes Jim before he can stop it. Spock quiets him with a finger against his lips.

"It is logical for others to think it. There is much to be done," Spock continues, "and few of us remain."

Ten thousand, Jim thinks. Sometimes he forgets how precious Spock is to people other than himself. He's selfish that way. "Your five years are almost up," Jim offers, even though it makes his stomach churn, and what he really wants to say is: _Don't even think about it._

Spock regards him curiously. "I have often been torn between what is expected of me, and what I...desire."

Years ago, Spock would never have admitted to feeling desire.

"Your older self told me he doesn't have any regrets," Jim says. "About us, I mean. Do you?"

"None at all." Spock takes a moment. "I gather, then, that some things have not changed in our time."

"Because I'm awesome." Jim smiles, and traces Spock's nipple with his finger.

Spock ignores that statement of fact. "I do not choose to remain here. As my older self also pointed out, there are two of us."

"Uh-uh. There's only one of you," Jim says, climbing on top of Spock. "Not two."

Spock raises an eyebrow, but before he can say anything, Jim continues.

"There might be yous in other universes and other times, but you're my you, and there isn't another one anywhere." He dares Spock to talk back to that.

"Then I have decided wisely, since my older self may fulfill his duties here, but only I can be with you."

Jim is tired and hungry, and his muscles ache from being on a new planet, but he wants to make love to Spock again. The need builds inside him as their mouths and bodies meet again, and their thoughts weave together.

Outside the window, two moons collide, scattering silver and gold light onto the surface of the planet, whose undiscovered plants might flower only once every one hundred years.

The end.


End file.
